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Part 67 |
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‘…there are stars above you. Xander stirred, recognised the need to wake, wasn’t sure he could oblige.
‘…If you should ever leave me, God only knows what I’d be without you…’ Vague memories washed over him like a frigid winter tide, nothing, nothing, nothing he wanted to know about. He began to sink back into oblivion, then he felt the figure beside him shift, heard the satisfied groan that came with a full-body stretch. ‘…God only knows what I’d be without you…’ Xander wanted to get away, feeling a sudden nausea as the memories ebbed and flowed. He flexed his wrist, felt pain. Wondered what he was. ‘…God only knows what I’d be without you…’ Groping out with his good hand he managed to switch off the radio. Despite feeling it would be a foolish manoeuvre to say the least, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. The world swam; he heaved. He leant forward, head on his knees, giving his circulation half a chance to get going. Another heave. Circulation, right, that meant he wasn’t… Xander had no choice but to make a run for the bathroom, and seconds later he was collapsed over the toilet retching and grimacing at the taste of bile, the burning in his throat. Ironic that as he was disposing of anything left in his digestive system his mind was saying he had to eat, to drink, and then he’d start to feel better. He wobbled to his feet, over to the basin, sloshed some cold water on his face without daring to look in the mirror, and hoped he’d get to the kitchen rather than end up in a heap on the staircase. Ten minutes later, bowl of cereal consumed and threatening to re-emerge, Xander risked a look at his arm. The signature was all but gone; the bite on his wrist was still raw and the bruise spread over his hand and a good five inches up his arm. He came to an obvious conclusion: by the time Spike had finished feeding, Xander hadn’t enough of Spike’s blood left in his system to accelerate the healing. His heart thumped at the sight, the thought, but he was profoundly grateful that his heart was still able to thump at all. A second bottle of juice and Xander showered and shaved in the pool room, wanting to stay as far away from the bedroom for as long as possible. He made up his mind that he would be calm, he would be casual, he would not make a fuss, and he would not look at Spike. In the door, straight to the dresser, self-consciously losing his robe and stepping into boxers, to the wardrobe and reaching for a white shirt, navy-blue suit, silver-grey silk tie that bore the Partnership’s monogram. “Let me look at you,” came the voice from the bed, a sentence Xander had heard a hundred times but one that had never made him jump before. Well, not all of him. He turned toward Spike and fiddled with his tie, managing not to make eye contact. “Meet your approval?” The common response, uncommonly subdued. “Actually, love, sartorially speaking, never wear a tie that matches your face.” Without stopping to think, Xander ripped the grey tie off and threw it aside, picking out the dark red version and beginning to tie it, making a mess of it with clumsy hands that couldn’t hide his inner turmoil. Then Spike was there, taking over, tying a precise knot and smoothing the tie into place, lingering on the strong chest beneath his palm. His hands went to Xander’s cheeks, gently pinching some colour into them as he studied the face they belonged to. “So beautiful,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss Xander but apparently unconcerned when Xander jerked back and away, unintentionally careering into the tub chair in the corner and falling into the seat. “Go back to bed, Spike.” Spike brought socks and shoes, kneeling in front of Xander and dressing his feet with the same care and tenderness he’d shown with the tie. The moment he was done, Xander stood and, with yet another wobble, headed in the direction of the door. “Xander…” Xander stopped, leaned heavily against the doorframe. “Do you hate me?” Xander fought against the danger of a knee-jerk response he’d regret for the rest of the day. He subliminally counted to ten. “No, Spike, I don’t hate you.” “Do you love me?” Xander considered, made sure he was telling the truth. “Yes, I love you.” Now he heard the rustling that indicated Spike was climbing back into bed, and he wanted to be with him, the feeling striking him with aching intensity, he wanted to be with Spike, curled up with Spike, held by Spike, being told that everything – the everything that felt not right – everything was perfectly fine. Everything was not perfectly fine. Xander stood in the hall, staring at his car keys, knowing that it would be irresponsible to drive in his condition. A quick call and Jake was detouring to pick him up on the way to work. Another bottle of juice while he waited. His stomach rolled once more when he walked into the living room. Shakily picking through the wreckage of the rear wall, Xander rescued what was left of his palm, a gift from Moira when he first moved into his last apartment; of course it was slashed to pieces, and Xander thought about how strange it was that he had this great attachment to a plant, but supposed it was what it represented. It hadn’t been about a new home, but a new life. Hearing the sound of Jake’s car in the drive, Xander shook the worst of the glass from the remains of the palm and moved it aside, hoping that, on closer examination, it could be saved. … Jake was concerned, vocally and loudly, at Xander’s appearance, trying to insist he stay home, but Xander was determined to go to work, hold the meeting he’d been reading up for the previous evening. In the car Xander lay his head back to doze for five minutes, and when he came to he found himself in Patrick’s office, laid out on the sofa with a blanket over him. As he started to sit up a firm hand grasped his shoulder and pushed him back down. “I’ve got a meeting…” “That’s been moved to this afternoon,” Patrick told him, crouching alongside the sofa. “I’ll take it if you can’t.” “I can. Will.” “Did you come back to work too soon?” “No, no, I was perfectly okay to come back, I wanted to come back, this is…this is just a bug or something. I was sick this morning.” “Morning sickness? Never saw that one coming,” Patrick chuckled, and Xander managed a smile in response. The hand that had lain on his shoulder moved to stroke his hair, and Xander closed his eyes again. “Sleep,” was whispered, and Xander lost consciousness. Patrick reached under the blanket and retrieved Xander’s arm, undoing the cuff of his shirt and pushing back the material to reveal the bite mark on his wrist. There was no anger, just understanding and sadness as Patrick wrapped his hand around the damage. “Heal.” A faint glow showed around the edges of Patrick’s hand and his face twisted in pain as he deliberately sought and felt what Xander had experienced when the wound was inflicted. Repairs made, Patrick tucked Xander’s arm back under the blanket. A final touch to Xander’s head… “Strength.” …and he stood, shuddering repeatedly with the after-effects of what he’d encountered. The telephone rang; Patrick sighed, knowing it was Beth, ready and willing to scold him for breaking the rules again, intervening when he should leave well alone. She was right, naturally she was right, but they were so close now. So close. He smiled back at Xander’s relaxed form, picked up the telephone handset. “Yes, my sweet, I know exactly what you’re about to say…” … Xander was woken at midday by a gentle touch to his face; for a moment he was reaching out for Spike but then he heard the bright voice of Cora informing him that lunch was served. She was gone by the time he sat up, feeling remarkably well, mouth watering at the smell of smoky ham and mushroom tagliatelle that was escaping from the fancy take-out container that bore the brand of Vencello’s restaurant. Halfway through his meal Patrick returned to his office and made coffee, stole mushroom slices with a stretched-out paperclip, discussed the presentation of their reception area and what did Xander think of complete makeover, debated whether they should upgrade the Partnership’s fleet until Xander refused point blank to part with his Merc. They discussed tartan and skiing and hoardings and creaking window blinds and Cora’s birthday party. Spike, home, wrist, and low blood pressure did not enter the conversation. … The meeting went well, obviously running later than Xander had expected because of the delayed start, and he and Jake got to Donny’s at a little after nine. Xander was ravenous and, as Jake ordered for them, Xander phoned home. “Thought you’d forgotten about me,” Spike accused before Xander could say a hello. “How could I possibly forget about you?” Xander asked cheerfully. “Want to get your gorgeous ass along here before last orders?” The phone went dead. “I take it that’s a yes.” Xander kept a close eye on the door. He and Spike had been to Donny’s together several times in the past and Spike had coped fairly well, but Xander was aware that walking in alone might be difficult for the vampire and was on the edge of his seat, ready to meet him at the door if there was a moment’s hesitation. But Xander was pleased to see Spike stroll in like he owned the place, taking a good look around and casually drifting to their customary booth. It was enough to send a distinct pang to Xander’s groin: the merest hint of the Big Bad and he was putty in his vampire’s claws. Spike slid in beside Xander, stretching an arm along the back of the bench seat, brushing his fingertips over Xander’s shoulder. Jake said hi, pushed the huge basket of fries in his direction, went off to get more beers. Spike watched him go before taking Xander’s arm in his hand and turning it so he could see the wrist, showing no surprise or curiosity over the perfectly healed skin, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the site of the bite mark. Xander gave the slightest shiver, knew his scent must be begging for a fuck. “How were you today?” Spike asked, shifting a little closer and leaning in to deliver a barely-there kiss to Xander’s cheek. “Umm…okay. I think. Okay,” Xander replied distractedly. “Pat changed the time of the meeting and I slept all morning.” His hand disappeared beneath the table and caressed Spike’s thigh. “We don’t have to stay.” “Want your Spike?” “Yeah,” Xander nodded enthusiastically. “Better make sure I’m worth waiting for then,” Spike grinned. “What would you…” Spike’s head abruptly turned in the direction of the bar. Jake had evidently been jostled by some young men fooling around, spilling the drinks he was carrying. Xander could tell from Jake’s attitude that it had been an accident and he was good-naturedly arguing that they didn’t have to buy more beers to make up for the small amount of spillage, generally laughing along with their semi-intoxicated antics. But Spike was golden-eyed and growling, body tensing. “Don’t, Spike.” “Don’t what?” “Let them upset you.” “I’m not.” “Nothing bad going down, no need for the grr.” “They lay a finger on him…” “Not going to happen. You don’t need to protect Jay from having beer bought for him.” More laughter and the level of the growl increased. “Spike…” “I’m not upset.” “Damn right you’re not,” Xander sighed, pushing away the remainder of his food, appetite lost. “We’ll go. Gimme a few with Jay and then we’ll go.” “No. I’ll go. I don’t want to be here anyway.” “Stay. Just…” “No. No ‘just’. I’ve had enough of just.” Spike was out of the booth and out of the bar in seconds, leaving Xander half-hard and entirely bewildered. “Where’d Spike go?” “He didn’t want to stay.” “You want to catch him up?” Xander thought of vampire speed and smiled. “No.” “I hope you’re dry,” Jake said as he gestured to the extra beer he’d placed on the table. “Because I’m driving.” One of the bar staff delivered three more beers along with whiskey chasers as the guys at the bar cheerfully waved.
Which is why Xander was weaving when he arrived home at eleven-forty. Jake dropped him off and sat in his car observing the convoluted route his friend took as he tried to find his keys and then find the front door and then find the lock. With an exaggerated farewell gesture in Jake’s direction, Xander toppled into the hallway, throwing his keys at the table and waving dismissively as they skidded across the surface and dropped down the back. Door shut, Xander went looking for Spike, finding him in the living room and experiencing a massive resurrection of his earlier lust at the mere sight of the vampire. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” Xander told him as he took a slow, deliberate walk in his direction. “I tell you that?” “You tell me that,” Spike smiled as he stood patiently waiting for Xander to get to him. “You are so. Fucking. Fucking. Gorgeous.” Xander threw off his jacket and pulled his already-loosened tie over his head, tossing it over his shoulder. “Fucking gorgeous, and I want you so bad it hurts.” “Good.” Xander groaned as Spike began to touch himself through his jeans, reminding Xander he’d been hard for what felt like weeks. “Understand it sometimes.” “Understand what?” Xander sank to his knees a few feet from Spike, flopping into the position of submission. “I worship you.” Spike was by him in a second, encouraging him up; Xander shrugged off his hands. “Don’t, love, this is… I hate this.” “I worship you.” “Well, worship me up here, you daft git.” “You deserve to be worshipped.” “Xander, I mean it, this isn’t funny,” Spike insisted, voice full of stress that Xander was oblivious to in his present condition. Xander ran his hands over Spike’s feet, squeezed his ankles, began a protracted journey up his calves, squeezed his knees. Spike grabbed his shoulders and tugged but Xander squirmed loose. Hands travelled up Spike’s thighs and around to his buttocks, Xander leant up and pressed his face into the bulge at Spike’s groin. “Fuck me, Spike, all of me, any of me.” “Get up, Xander, I want you up.” “I promise you I am well and truly up.” “On your feet. Get up.” Xander stopped and looked up at Spike, blinking a few times before smiling broadly. “You’ve had me on my knees before.” “Not like this, from that, not… Get up, Xander!” Spike broke free of Xander’s tight hold; Xander sat back on his heels and stared at the vampire, all puppy-dog eyes and pout. “Don’t you want to fuck me?” “I can’t have you like this,” Spike said tersely as he paced. “One of us has to be in control and it has to be you.” “No.” “Yes! Get up, Xander. I can’t… This… Oh, for fuck’s sake!” “What makes you think I want to be in control?” “Because it puts you in your element: you’re a fucking control freak.” “I don’t want to be. Listen to you. You think I want that when you hate me for it? You hate me for it. I want us to be equal and you won’t let that happen. And I don’t… I don’t… You’re up and you’re down, you’re freaking me out or you’re breaking my heart,” Xander ranted, “I don’t know if it’s Spike or William, I don’t know who I’m allowed to love or touch, and what you did to me last night, you bastard, what you did to me last night…” Xander stopped for a moment, gasping. He gestured wildly in the direction of the previous evening’s damage. “Look what you did. Look what you did,” he repeated, voice trembling. “And…and…I trusted you with…” Unable to find the words, Xander held out his arm, wrote Spike on it with a finger. “You bastard. How could you? I trusted you.” Spike fell still, mood turning with the memories, the recollection of the power he felt while he made his mark on Xander. “You’ve answered your own question,” Spike said coolly. “I could because I’m a bastard.” Alcohol and potential hysteria were not a good mix; Xander felt the queasiness begin, struggled to his feet and rocked his way toward the door, almost toppling over as he bent to pick up his jacket.
As he passed through the hall, deliberating where he’d like to hurl this time, there was a tapping on the door. Xander veered in its direction and threw it open. “Jay! Did I miss the sleep time when we do the sleeping? You’re taking me to work?” Jake laughed. “I was concerned.” “About me? That’s nice. That’s very… I really don’t feel so good.” “You don’t look so good.” “I don’t feel so good. In fact…” Xander turned and disappeared in the direction of the downstairs cloakroom. Jake took a few steps into the hall, guessed he’d find Spike in the living room and walked through. Spike was standing exactly where Xander had left him. “Spike, Alex isn’t feeling— Holy shit! What happened here? Are you okay?” came tumbling from the young man when he set eyes on the chaos along the rear wall. He hurried to Spike, taking his hands without hesitation, checking him over for cuts. “You’re not hurt?” “What are you doing here?” “I was concerned about Alex. Look, do you need help with this, I can…” “Why are you always following him around?” That brought Jake up sharply. He dropped Spike’s hands and looked at him quizzically. “What are you talking about?” “Every time I turn around there you are, clinging to him like something penicillin won’t shift.” Jake gave half a laugh. “You’re kidding, right?” The smile gradually disappeared at the sight of Spike’s humourless expression. “Ah, come on, Spike…” “You get jealous of us? Think about what we do and wish it was you with him?” “No. Why would I think that?” Spike took a leisurely stroll around Jake, scenting him as he went. “Men smell different after they’ve been broken in, and you’re still sweet, untouched. Looking for Xander to be the first?” “He’s my friend, my best friend,” Jake explained in idiot speak. “I guess you haven’t had a lot of friends if you can’t get your head round that.” “I’ve seen the way you look at him.” “What way I look at him? Like he’s my best friend and he’s great to be with and I love him? Not a big deal, Spike, and not something I’m trying to hide: I’ll say that to his face.” Jake stepped in front of Spike to stop the continuous circling. “Maybe you wish I wasn’t around, but at least be honest about the reasons.” “He doesn’t need you.” “No?” Spike saw a flash of anger flare and be very deliberately extinguished. “He doesn’t need me? Well, he sure as hell needs someone to pick up the pieces after you’ve worked your shit on him. The way he was this morning: you think I don’t know that you’re responsible?” “That’s right. I think you don’t know.” “I have never hurt him, never caused him pain. Can you say that?” “I don’t need to, mate. I’m the one with the privileges.” Another flare of anger, and this time harder to contain. Jake obviously decided Spike wasn’t worth the aggravation and began to walk away; Spike went in pursuit, pulling Jake roughly back, congratulating himself on his timing as Xander came into the room, face damp from where he’d doused himself with cold water, fingers dragging back through his hair. Xander leant against the wall and turned to Spike and Jake, shaken to see Spike with his fists wound in the front of Jake’s jacket. “Spike? What the…?” “Here’s your chance, ginger. Making your move on Sexy Lexy?” “Spike!” “Or d’you fancy something a little more exotic?” Spike’s eyes sparkled with a trace of gold; he flickered a provocative look in Xander’s direction and leant in to kiss Jake, who casually turned his head away, waiting until Spike’s mouth touched his neck before turning his head back equally as casually and whispering in Spike’s ear. Spike flew away from him, eyes wide and glaring. Jake gave him a brief, authentic smile, smoothed out his jacket and turned to a thoroughly stunned Xander. “Jay, I’m…I’m…so sorry,” Xander stuttered, “I don’t know what’s got into him.” “You want to come stay with me tonight? You don’t have to put up with his crap.” “Yeah,” Xander replied with a sour laugh. “I do. Actually I do.” Jake ran a comforting hand over Xander’s shoulder. “You want some help with this mess at the weekend?” “No, I made some calls today, people are coming in to fix it. Don’t want to go near the glass.” Jake gave a nod, took a last look at Spike, who was still backed off and watching suspiciously, and left the room. Xander caught him in the hallway, trying to formulate a better apology, but any attempt was pre-empted. “You okay, Lexy?” “No.” Jake gently pulled Xander into a hug, comforted him for a long moment. “I’m sorry. What he said, what he did.” “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to.” “Right. No worrying.” Xander reluctantly let his friend go. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.” “Thanks.” “And if he gives you any shit meantime and you want out…” “It’ll be fine, he’s just…” Xander shrugged. “Quit thinking about it and get some sleep.” Nod. “G’night.”
Xander saw Jake out and shut the door, throwing the locks. He got to the foot of the stairs before accepting he would have to deal with this tonight, but he needed to stay calm, not give Spike what he wanted, not give in to the tempting urge toward violence. However drunk he was, Spike wouldn’t be able to provoke him into that. “What did you think you were doing?” he asked from the doorway of the living room. Spike was poking around in the glass with his foot, trying to locate the piece he’d cut Xander with. “Just having a little chat about our lord and master.” “What did you say to him before I got here?” “That I was sick of him sizing up your arse,” Spike told him without a hint of rancour. Xander shook his head in disbelief. It was almost funny. Almost. “Why didn’t you have him when I wasn’t around? Let the soppy little bugger get it out of his system?” “It’s not like that, me and Jake, we’re not like that, and you know, Spike, you know.” Spike just carried on nudging the glass around and looking. “Why, Spike?” Nothing. “You still trying to get me mad enough to hit you?” “He’s probably on the phone to Patrick right now.” Spike fell into a childish whine. “Spike made a move on me because he knows I want Lexy’s arse. Come give me cuddles, make it all good.” “What did he say to you?” Spike froze. “Tell me what he said.” Spike forced a breath into his lungs and answered rigidly… “‘Xander smells as sweet.’” …before viciously kicking out at the last section of glass hanging in the frame; it crashed onto the pile below it, sending up splinters that peppered Spike’s body. “Spike!” “Don’t fuss.” Xander watched as beads of blood appeared on Spike’s bare arms and face. Not fussing, this is Xander the non-fussing man, this is Xander… “Xander? He called me Xander?” “Clever that. Very personal.” “What does it mean? ‘Xander smells as sweet’, what does it mean?” “If you’re not going to give me what I want, go away. Forget the smells as sweet: you look like shit and smell twice as bad. Go away. You’re offensive.” Xander left Spike to his glass and went upstairs, still inebriated enough to want to fall straight into bed, regrettably sober enough to make himself shower first. … A shock of cold woke Xander as Spike lay alongside his body. He’d barely been asleep an hour and he irritably pushed the vampire off, turning away and onto his stomach before Spike could start his usual tricks with the least discerning part of Xander’s body. Sharp knees parted Xander’s legs and Spike made himself comfortable between them, spreading himself over the sleep-hot body and groaning with pleasure as the warmth seeped into him. “Fuck off, Spike,” Xander grumbled. Spike shifted a couple of times to accommodate his growing erection, but it was plain he wasn’t going anywhere. Gnawing at Xander’s shoulders, he began to slide his cock along the valley of Xander’s ass in a slow, sensual pseudo-fuck. “Don’t you want to play, Xan?” “No, I don’t want to play,” Xander ground out through clenched teeth. “Shame, I’d hoped for a bit more of a reaction tonight.” “A bit more…? What do you mean?” Xander started to push himself up on his elbows but Spike easily collapsed him. “What did you do to me last night?” Xander demanded. “I passed out, you brought me up here…? “Stripped you off, played with you for a bit. Fucked your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind.” “I was unconscious and you…!” “Oh, come off it, Xander, I’m not serious.” “We’re back to this. What’s the truth, what do I believe?” Spike laughed softly and Xander buried his face in the pillow, wondering a whole string of hows and ifs and whys, particularly whys. His unhappiness was proving to be an aphrodisiac, and Spike fucked a little more vigorously, so wound up he was ready to come in seconds but determined to draw it out for Xander’s benefit. Although, technically, benefit was probably not the word he was looking for. “I love it when you give up, Xander. Give up to me. All that strength and giving up. You make me so fucking horny when you’re like this, when you’re being a victim. You make me want to fuck your lights out. I think about you bleeding for me, and I want to come. Think about breaking into you, breaking into your precious virgin arse,” Spike’s voice was swallowed by an overexcited gasp, and the vampire’s cock ground painfully against Xander. “I see it so clearly and it’s magnificent: that tightness destroyed and you bleeding all over my cock, making it hot and slick. Think you might like it, might scream for more. Or maybe just…scream? Screaming as I fuck you in your own blood. Seeing you lick your blood off my cock…” Words descended into grunts as Spike’s last few thrusts brought about a ferocious orgasm, Xander’s obvious disgust adding to its potency.
“Get off of me.” Spike did as Xander asked, climbing off and leaving his come spread over Xander’s back like a statement of ownership. When Xander turned his head to make eye contact, Spike merely rolled over onto his side, deliberately turning away from Xander and sighing contentedly as he settled down to sleep. “Spike.” “Sleeping.” Spike heard the sharp and angry inhalation. “Spike.” “What do you want?” Xander thought seriously about that, reminded himself of William’s warning against petulance. The memory didn’t have the desired affect, and at that moment Xander knew precisely what he wanted. “William.” He ignored the low growl. “William would be good.” “Never again. You’ve seen the end of him. Try calling him back and I go see the mojo man, get rid of the simpering little tosser for good.” “You couldn’t.” “Try me, darlin’.” “You getting rid of William is as likely as…as you fucking me. One of those things that, however much you want it, isn’t going to happen.” With a snarl Spike was covering Xander again, hauling him to elbows and knees, hands moving to pull apart the cheeks of his ass, head of his already erect cock pressing at the human’s opening. So fast, the only reaction Xander had time for was clenching his teeth in anticipation of the pain that he’d managed to inflict upon himself. But… Agony was noticeable by its absence. Spike released Xander, stroking his buttocks as he withdrew, leaning forward to place a loving kiss at the base of his spine, moving on to lick the drying semen from his skin. The tenderness was short-lived however, and Spike was soon mood-swinging for all he was worth, flipping Xander over and pinning him to the bed, kissing him hard, leaving him panting for breath. Spike bit down Xander’s neck, grazes following his path onto the heaving chest; his attention focused, too intensively, on Xander’s nipples and any pleasure soon became torment. Xander tried to free himself but it took little of Spike’s immense power to keep him in place. “Spike… Don’t… Spike, don’t hold me down, I don’t…” Xander’s alarm did nothing to sway the vampire. “Let me up, Spike. Spike!” Spike looked up; the irises of his eyes were ringed with gold. “You’re going to have to establish your dominance.” “Establish my— No. I won’t.” “Me or you, Xan. Make your choice.” “That’s what we’ve progressed to? I have to rape you to make you happy?” Spike smiled and went back to dragging his slightly extended fangs over Xander’s neck. “You’ve done it before, love, haven’t you? So nicely. Raped me so nicely.” “Fuck, no, Spike, I never meant to…” “Take me, Xander. Make me bleed for you. Show me your strength. Possess me.” “I can’t. I can’t do it, I don’t want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you again.” “Claim me.” “I can’t.” Pause. “So what am I doing here?” “Is that what this is about? You want to leave me but you haven’t the courage, is that it? I have to make this okay too? Well, fine. Go to Angel. He’ll be able to give you everything I can’t and more. Everything you want.” Xander’s voice cracked and he hated himself for that. “Now, get off of me. Get the fuck off of me.”
Subdued once more, Spike slid down Xander’s body until he was ensconced between tense thighs, nuzzled Xander’s cock, which apparently hadn’t taken any of the previous debate seriously and had been more concerned with getting nice and hard for Spike to play with. However much Xander wanted this, and he did, he did, he did, he was too unsure of Spike’s mental state to allow it too continue. “You can’t do this,” he said as he laid his palm on Spike’s brow, easing him away. Spike looked mortified. “Don’t have the vampire healing thing going for me, remember? You get carried away and mine won’t grow back.” “You don’t trust me.” “I want to,” Xander assured. “But you don’t.” “You blame me?” Spike shook a no, adjusted his position and lay with his head on Xander’s stomach, closing his eyes as Xander’s hand immediately went to his hair, stroking with an affectionate touch. “It’s like you’ve gone crazy. What’s made you crazy, Spike?” “I can’t explain it, love.” “Because… Is it me sending you crazy?” Yes, indirectly it was, Spike acknowledged. Directly, it wasn’t. And right now… “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.” Xander smiled sadly. “Great. One more thing I can’t get right.”
Before Spike could disagree out of guilt, Xander brought him up the bed, lay him on his side and, after retrieving the covers, moulded himself to the agreeably cool body. He whispered his love against the back of Spike’s neck, aware of the tilt of head that offered Xander his mark, but even that small level of violence was unacceptable to Xander right now. He kissed the scar and, ignoring the vampire’s quietly moaned frustration, let himself fall back to sleep.
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